Authors: Elizabeth Briggs
More Than Fashion (32 page)
Now that I had the guitar in my hands, the compulsion to play was irresistible. What was one more chord, right? I was alone and the room was soundproof. The door had locked behind me. Kyle was dealing with Becca, and he’d given me permission to come in here anyway.
I knew it was a bad idea. I knew I should put the guitar down and walk out of the room. But I started strumming anyway.
I was hesitant at first, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. My hands found the chords automatically, and the words flowed out of me with the music. Exhilaration swept through me with each note, and I closed my eyes and let the song take me away. Soon I was belting out the words, shredding the guitar like I was on stage playing for a massive crowd. I’d never do this in front of anyone else, but here, alone with this guitar, I could pretend. I could let myself go.
And then I opened my eyes and wanted to die.
Jared stood in front of me, his eyes wide and mouth open slightly. He must have come in while I was playing. How much did he hear? Or worse,
see
?
My fingers slipped off the strings with a screech, and I nearly dropped the guitar. Thank god for the strap. “I’m so sorry. Kyle gave me the key and I was just—”
There was no way to explain what was going on, so I shut up. I’d been singing his lyrics, playing the song he’d written. Not to mention, I’d been using
his
guitar. That was like wearing someone else’s underwear. You didn’t just play another person’s guitar without their permission.
I yanked the guitar off and tried to put it back, but knocked the stand over instead. Hands shaking, it took me two tries to right it again, all while Jared stood there, gaping at me. Why didn’t he say anything? Was he so angry he couldn’t speak? I set the guitar down carefully, then backed away like it was on fire—and ran straight into the drum set. Cymbals crashed as I fell against it, knocking the equipment all over the floor. Great, now he must think I’m a stalker
and
a complete klutz. I jumped up too fast, and my legs were so unsteady I started to topple over toward the table. Jared caught me before we had another disaster, his hands gripping my arms to balance me.
“You okay?” he asked, his blue eyes holding mine and making my heart pound even faster. If I stared into those eyes too long, I’d fall into them completely.
I jerked away from his touch and stumbled back. “I'm sorry, I—”
“You were playing one of our songs.”
“Was I?” I asked with a forced laugh, trying to edge toward the door to make a quick escape. “I mean, uh, yeah. I was. Obviously. But it’s not a big deal. It’s not like I listen to your songs a lot or anything. I just have that kind of ear where I hear something once and can play it back and uh…”
Stop talking
, I shouted at myself.
STOP
.
The thing about music was true. I could usually play anything just from listening to it a few times, but I’d also listened to Villain Complex’s album about three thousand times and practiced the songs in my room with my guitar hooked up to my headphones. I wasn’t obsessed or anything. I just liked their music a lot. But he didn’t need to know any of that. This was humiliating enough as it was.
“Really?” he asked. “I wish I could do that.”
Not the reaction I’d been expecting. I thought he’d yell at me to get out of his house or think I was another of his swooning groupies. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t think that. I didn’t look the part with my boring glasses and plain brown hair and flannel shirt. No, he probably assumed creepy stalker fangirl. I had to get away, out of this room, as far from Jared and his guitar and this nightmare as possible.
He started to say something else, but I blurted out, “I have to go.”
I escaped through the door and back to the party, slipping into the anonymity of the crowd. Once away from Jared, I could finally breathe again, but the urge to flee was still strong. I found Alexis and gave her Kyle’s key and told her to say goodbye to him for me. Now all I had to do was find my friends and get the hell out of his house.
Julie was flirting with a guy with a fauxhawk, but I grabbed her arm. “We need to leave. Now.”
“What?” Julie looked back at the guy and pouted. “Right now?”
“Yes. Trust me on this.” As I spoke, Jared appeared at the edge of the room, his head swinging around like he was looking for me. “Oh, god.”
She craned her neck to follow my gaze. “What’s going on, Maddie?”
“I’ll explain when we’re in the car. Now can we please go?”
She nodded, and we made our way out the front door, where we found Carla arguing with Daryl. I knew he’d track her down. Unbelievable.
“I told you, I was just about to leave!” she said to him.
“We’re going now.” I didn’t wait to see if they followed me. I started down the hill toward where my Honda was parked, anxious to get away from the house, away from Jared, and away from the most embarrassing moment of my life.
I could never go to a Villain Complex show ever again, that was for sure.
Want to read more?
MORE THAN MUSIC
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
T
hanks to my husband, Gary Briggs, who inspired Gavin Bennett in many ways. I hope you don’t freak out about how similar Gavin is to you and how I stole his dialogue from things you’ve said. What can I say, the English accent is irresistible even after all these years!
Thanks to my family for putting up with my never-ending deadlines, in particular my mom, Gaylene Adams, who brought food whenever I had no time to cook or go grocery shopping. I’d be completely lost without your patience and support.
Thanks to my awesome beta readers: Riley Edgewood, who decided our books are in the same universe and thus let me slip in a Gold Rush Standard reference; Jessica Love, who critiqued this book and answered all my annoying questions while nine months pregnant; and Kathryn Rose, who kindly subtitled this book, “Revenge blowjobs for the win!”
Thanks to the “Asian mafia” for allowing me be an honorary member, for inspiring Julie in many ways, and for letting me use some of your stories: Ann Hung, Helena Kim, Vivian Lee, and Sandy Li. Miss you ladies!
Thanks to all the people who made this book professional: my cover designer, Najla Qamber; my photographer, Vania Stoyanova; my copy editor, Rebecca Weston; and my agent, Kate Testerman.
Most importantly, thanks to all the readers and bloggers who inspire me to keep writing. I couldn’t do this without all of you!
Extra special thanks to the members of Liz’s Dreamers—you rock!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth Briggs is a full-time geek who writes books for teens and adults. She plays the guitar, mentors at-risk teens, and volunteers with a dog rescue group. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and a pack of small, fluffy dogs.
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